


Grief v Wrath, or Let’s let Kaltz get it on

by SonicoSenpai



Series: Various Lamento One-Shots [9]
Category: Lamento -BEYOND THE VOID-
Genre: Demon Sex, Demons, First Time, Friends With Benefits, How Do I Tag, I was too embarrassed to post this earlier, M/M, My First Fanfic, Negotiations, OOC, Okay it’s really unrealistic sex, Oral Sex, Original Universe, Spit As Lube, Unrealistic Sex, Weirdly Consensual for this Universe, because Kaltz needs some screentime, devil of grief, devil of wrath, happy new year, magic spells, that ship has sailed, weird ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-10-01 17:53:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17248769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonicoSenpai/pseuds/SonicoSenpai
Summary: So... the very first fanfuck I ever wrote was actually NOT Rai and Konoe if you can believe it. After my first experience of Lamento, I thought, sweet Ribika, the Devil of Grief needs to get his—and not with Verg! This was my interpretation.A short warning: It’s terrible.This takes place about ten years before Lamento - Beyond the Void. It contains mild spoilers, so don’t read this if you haven’t played the game and you plan to. Kaltz invites Razel to his place for an evening to help with his loneliness.





	Grief v Wrath, or Let’s let Kaltz get it on

“You know my terms.”

“Yes.”

“And you agree to them?”

“Yes. I wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

After a small pause, the slender, smaller devil shifts in his chair, making himself more comfortable. “To be frank, I’m surprised to see you here.” 

“Why?” Razel takes an elegant sip from his tea. “I’ve been around for many years—I stopped counting after five thousand. I’ve experienced many things. And you... intrigue me. Your offer intrigues me.”

“Does it?” 

“Yes. I was human—you called us Two Canes—but that was long ago. I think of myself as only a devil now. I’ve had Ribika in the past, but a Ribika has never had me. I’ve been waiting for the perfect one. I still haven’t found a suitable partner. You are different. Your standards are... unique. Your technique is fascinating. If I had known you before you became a devil, I could have chosen you as a partner—but, in those days, you were already taken.”

The younger devil is thoughtful, listening to Razel with fascination. He was quite surprised when his invitation was so readily accepted. The devil seated across from him is slightly taller, much more muscular, extremely fit in body. In a test of strength, Kaltz would surely lose against the ancient Devil of Wrath before him. However, seated across from him, sipping his tea, he looks close to ordinary—or perhaps he is trying to look ordinary, in order to cure his millennial-long loneliness.

Was he also lonely, looking for physical touch and companionship, just as Kaltz was? It has been less than ten years since he’d turned into a devil, but the worst thing about it was the terrible loneliness associated with his power. He simply did not wish to sleep alone tonight. And that’s why Razel was here—to share his bed—sexually—and perhaps talk afterward.

But when devils congregate, powers increase, so boundaries and rules need to be negotiated in advance. He has learned this as a young devil. And this is what they were doing now, over tea. It seemed so strange, seeing the wrathful devil so in control of his emotions. In fact, he always seemed in control of his anger—at least when Kaltz saw him. Perhaps because he was so experienced. Kaltz knew he was over five millennia old. That should just be enough time to get one’s temper in line.

“Do you have any boundaries I should not cross? Or any expectations? Preferences?” Kaltz is asking.

“I do not. I’m open to new experiences, which is why I’m here. This mortal spell of yours intrigues me. I’d like to try it. There isn’t anything I’m unwilling to try.”

“Nothing at all?” 

Razel’s gleaming blue eyes assure Kaltz of all he needs to know. He has the experience to back up what he says. “I come from an era before morality. I expected those around me to seduce me, of course, to win my interest. But morality is a concept I learned after arriving here. My library is extensive, as you’ve seen. However, as I’ve understood, living under Victorian principles, like the devil of joy, and living when I did were polar opposites—almost like living on another planet.”

He gives the blue devil a wry smile, his red hair shining gleaming in the soft light. “So, no. Nothing that bothers me and anything goes.”

Kaltz feels blood rush to his lower half at that last statement. “Would you like more tea, then?”

“Let us begin. Shall we get started? Do you start with the spell?” 

“I can do that.” Kaltz stands up from his chair and walks over to Razel. He speaks a few unintelligible words, softly, while waving his hands over the red devil’s head. Razel looks a little confused, and asks, quite politely, “Is that all?” 

“Yes. That is all.” 

“I don’t feel very different at all.” Razel looks skeptical. 

“Outwardly, since you are willing, it doesn’t usually feel different. Not until I issue commands. Or make suggestions. Why don’t we take this conversation to the bedroom?”

Razel is on his feet in an instant and follows Kaltz to the bedroom, which doesn’t really consist of anything except the round bed, covered with a canopy of white, pink, and yellow flowers. Kaltz glances at Razel’s face, wondering if he’s noticed the difference yet. It seems he has, but he doesn’t seem perturbed. The slender devil lets out a quiet sigh of relief. He’d really rather not upset the devil known for wrath. 

“This is beautiful,” Razel comments. He reaches out to touch one of the vines, one of the white blossoms in his hand. “Are these from your current world? From a fond memory?” 

“They are,” Kaltz replies. “They surrounded the meeting spot where I’d meet my lover.” 

“Kaltz.” Razel is kneeling on the bed, though he has moved to the bed so quickly that Kaltz hadn’t seen him. He reaches out to Kaltz’s waist with one hand and to his face with another, but his touch is very soft and gentle. “You’ve been here for how long now? Ten years?”

If he knows, what is the point of asking? 

As though Razel hears his thoughts, “Ribika rarely live longer than 100 years, is that correct? And your life was cut short at the age of twenty? So you have now spent half your life as a devil?” 

“What’s your point?” Kaltz’s tone is both a little angry and a little mournful. 

“Perhaps it’s time you gave yourself permission to move on,” Razel suggests. “Not from your past love, of course. Just to learn to forgive yourself. It grieves me to see you in pain.”

Kaltz can feel the devil’s touch almost singeing his skin. Since he’s become a devil, his own skin has turned to ice—his body is frozen with grief and sadness, loneliness and regret. Feeling that burning touch against his cheek is mesmerizing. When was the last time he felt such heat? 

Looking at Razel—the devil is kneeling on his bed—Kaltz notices how much his red hair resembles fire. It’s long and bright red, and mysteriously brings out the blue of his eyes. He’s incredibly regal and majestic—and Kaltz briefly wonders once again what he is doing here.

“May I disrobe you?” Razel asks. 

“Yes—after you remove your clothing first,” Kaltz suggests. 

And he watches as Razel removes each item of clothing—slowly, seductively—first unhooking his jacket at his chest, slipping it off his shoulders, and dropping it to the side. He unties his obi, which is what keeps his robe in place, and it slips off easily. The entire time he disrobes, he does it while keeping his eyes on Kaltz’s face—he doesn’t have to watch what he’s doing, and he’s already left his shoes at the door like a good guest ought to do.

Finally, he’s nude—he wears no undergarment beneath his robe, Kaltz notices, the hair below his belly is fine and straight—as though recently groomed—and the same bright red as the hair on his head. Razel chuckles. 

“Well, I’ve lived for many years, and this sort of opportunity doesn’t present itself often these days. I must be prepared when it does.” He kneels before Kaltz, and slowly, bows his head before him, removing a tie from his hair. When he does, waves and curls are loosed over his shoulder—it’s like a molten river! And it’s beautiful.

Kaltz can’t help reaching out to put his hands in that hair. It’s soft—maybe the only thing soft about this ancient devil—smooth and well cared for. And it smells beautiful and strangely floral. It’s absolutely breathtaking. When Razel looks up, hair surrounding his face, the effect is completely different. He looks much softer, much younger, and incredibly erotic.

His hands come up to loosen one buckle after another on Kaltz’s severe uniform, starting at the neck and moving down. He keeps his eyes moving between Kaltz’s eyes and his hands, working quickly as he goes. Once the buckles are unfastened, Kaltz loses his cape and coat. Razel slowly runs his hands along Kaltz’s slim fitting shirt—and he feels a sharp intake of breath—no one has touched him like this in ten years—not since…

“Don’t think of that,” Razel says, suddenly touching his hot fingers against Kaltz’s cold chin, tilting his face to meet his eyes. “Stay with me. Stay in the moment.”

“Kiss me,” Kaltz commands. He wants to feel that hot mouth against his own—and Razel complies instantly—taking his mouth with gusto. His tongue burns against his own cold mouth, but he welcomes the warmth—he has missed feeling alive these past years, and the feeling of another being in his space is welcome. And this person is more than willing, eager, running his tongue against Kaltz’s teeth.

He realizes Razel has pulled him to the bed, still undressing him, undoing buckles, pulling his arms from sleeves, pulling his pants off his legs—all while kissing him. He has experience—more experience than anyone Kaltz has ever been with, and he feels a slight fear again.

Razel pulls away, kissing him softly on the forehead, running both warm hands over his ice cold body—leaving Kaltz stuttering in pleasure against the heat of his hands. “I may have more experience than you, but remember, this is a first for me, at least in some ways. I’m nervous as well.”

His smile is warm, and Kaltz can’t help returning it—and the expression on Razel’s face completely changes into something filled with complete desire and… unbridled lust.

“I’ve never seen you smile.”

“I smile,” Kaltz replies, taken aback and slightly offended. Has he really never smiled since he’s been a devil? It’s quite possible, since he hasn’t spent much time around Razel, and he hasn’t been very happy this past ten years. He’s the devil of grief, after all. Also, he’s supposed to be taking the lead and doesn’t feel he’s doing a very good job. He’s distracted by this ravenous monster in his bed.

“Your smile—it’s a beautiful thing. Is it perhaps why Verg is pursuing you so strongly?”

“Let’s not discuss that devil right now,” Kaltz says, looking down, slightly embarrassed. “Perhaps afterward.”

Razel has pulled Kaltz underneath him, and Kaltz is suspects their roles are indeed about to be reversed—so he speaks up. “I hope you haven’t forgotten our agreement. I think you need to be on your back.” 

The ravenous monster lets out a frustrated growl—and obeys instantly, to Kaltz’s relief. He wouldn’t mind reversing roles with Razel, really—it’s just, he’d spent so much time preparing for today and planning for it, he wanted things to happen according to his plans. Kaltz admires the devil’s body and takes a nipple into his mouth—slowly, succulently, and torturously—and he feels Razel’s legs wrap around his with another growl. 

“Ugh—it’s been longer than ten years f-for me,” and the sounds of that heated, breathless voice turns Kaltz on like nothing he can remember. He has a devil before him, on his knees, at least metaphorically, in desperation. 

“But if you’ve truly never done this before, there are steps. And even if you have and it’s been some time, I shouldn’t wish to hurt you.”

Razel considers, briefly. “I don’t mind a little pain now and then, but I’ll do what you ask.” 

“Yes, you will,” whispers Kaltz. “You’ll obey every command. Why don’t you start by licking my fingers?” 

The difference between their body temperatures is extreme—as Kaltz controls ice, so Razel controls fire—and their body temperatures show this difference. Razel’s tongue nearly burns his fingers, but it feels so good to feel some warmth—it’s been so long since he has felt any other contact—at least, not unwanted, forced contact, like whatever Verg is trying to do. 

Razel’s skin is dry. He doesn’t appear to sweat. Neither does Kaltz. Convenient, since Kaltz would probably be covered in frost and Razel’s would simply evaporate. And he smells slightly of something floral, which is intriguing—is it orange blossom, perhaps? Terribly nostalgic of the land of the living, which Kaltz rarely visits. He has plenty of work as the devil of grief but often does not answer the call.

Razel’s mouth is hot, too, and his tongue is long, muscular and very practiced. Razel doesn’t take his eyes from Kaltz’s face when bathing his fingers in saliva, and he looks every inch the ancient devil he is, twirling and twisting his tongue around, sucking on those fingers as if trying to change their temperature.

It crosses Kaltz’s mind that this might be uncomfortable for Razel—if he is too cold—so he considerately says, “Our differences in body temperature are going to provide you with a sense of enhanced sensation and not an ounce of discomfort.”

As he says this, he can’t help bringing his other hand up to Razel’s face and running it along that strong jawline. His hair is flowing around him, his eyes are glowing with excitement and anticipation, and Kaltz gets just a little bit nervous.

Razel must have picked up on these feelings, because he feels Razel’s arms snake around his body, wrapping around his waist, as they lie side by side on the bed. His embrace is so warm—it should be burning it the touch, especially with his own cold temperature, and Kaltz wonders if Razel can modulate his body temperature to his environment. He appreciates this effort. 

Kaltz drops a small kiss on Razel’s jaw, and then on his throat, and then moves down his body, slowly, teasingly—kissing and licking his collarbone with his cold tongue. He hears a sharp intake of breath every time he leans his mouth on a new area of this hot body, and he slowly brings his lips along the devil’s torso. He leaves a trail of kisses on his sculpted abdomen muscles, and he can feel the flexing of muscle underneath his mouth, and eagerness for more. 

Razel’s hands float into his hair, and play with his ears—which are new to him—such strange things—pointed cartilage designed for hearing, but without any muscles to help point them, and so unlike the ears he had as a cat. The ears he had as a cat were formed into the horns on his head, which no longer move, nor have sensation.

Kaltz’s tail flicks back and forth rather wildly, and he can feel a purr in the back of his throat. He’s always surprised to hear it—it’s another thing left from when he was a cat—purring, and how he the movement of his tail—those things are still very feline and remain feline qualities about this devil. 

Razel’s eyes open wide at the sound—he isn’t expecting either the purr or the undulating tail—and he smiles again.

“I see these things have remained with you from when you were a cat,” Razel says. 

“Do they displease you?” Kaltz asks, running his palms over Razel’s hips, which earns him another pleasured sigh. 

“Not at all. I remember the cats we had as pets when I was still human—the cats, your ancestors. My people, we thought highly of them. I had several, all dear to me—although ownership of such a creature is subject to confirmation, to say the least. I say I owned them, yet perhaps they believed they owned me. You could tell their moods by their tails, ears, and that sound. It pleases me to hear it.”

Kaltz takes this moment to plunge Razel’s entire length into his mouth—rather suddenly—and it takes away the breath of the devil underneath him. He plants his hands on the devil’s hips, to prevent him from thrusting upwards, forcing him to stay still, and just enjoying what is being done to him, and he alternates between tonguing the tip of the devil’s hot cock and deep-throating his entire length. 

Sighs and moans—completely uninhibited—come from the devil of wrath—which surprises Kaltz—and this makes it easy for him to find the most pleasing rhythm.

He also starts to bring his hands around to Razel’s behind, allowing a finger to gently circle his entrance—alternating pressure. When he’s swallowing his dick, he applies pressure; when gently licking, he continues his gentle exploration.

He can feel Razel moving deliberately to try to impale himself onto his finger, however—and that excites him. Tilting his eyes upwards, he sees a mess of burning red hair, blazing blue eyes that are half shut with one arm covering his forehead. He is soaking in the pleasure, and he’s enjoying himself, which makes Kaltz feel warm and tingly and excites him beyond words.

Kaltz adds another finger easily—and then one more—listening carefully to Razel’s response. Perhaps he was wrong when he thought devils didn’t sweat—although he isn’t covered with anything close to what Kaltz remembers in his former life, the devil of wrath’s scent has gotten much stronger. He smells warm, enticing—cinnamon, clove, and the slight scent of something citrus. He is slowly coming undone beneath the devil of grief’s icy fingers.

“Turn around and raise yourself up on all fours,” Kaltz whispers softly, removing his fingers and mouth from the other devil. Razel complies immediately—a slightly surprised expression on his face, but he is quite aroused. “I will enter you now.”

Despite not having been touched very much himself, Kaltz is hard and erect, eager for this. It’s been a long time—and he enjoys feeling this power over the ancient devil. Aligning himself up with the red demon’s entrance, he presses inside. The warmth that surrounds him is overwhelming, and he purrs loudly, biting the nape of the neck in front of him as he progresses. If Razel feels warm—does he feel cold? 

He lets out a small, contented sigh once he’s entirely immersed in the red devil, and gives him a little time to adjust, admiring his torso, stroking his black tail and his cock.

“You don’t have to hold yourself back for my sake,” Razel says—his voice breathless and ragged. His usually calm tone is nowhere to be seen, and it’s music to Kaltz’s ears.

Kaltz begins rocking his hips, enjoying the warm silky feeling of the other demon’s body, and when he begins thrusting in earnest, Razel’s hips pop backward to meet him. Kaltz experiments with a few different angles before he sees Razel’s torso shake, his tail quiver, and he hears a delightful moan. 

Repeating the same motion and getting the same reaction spurs him on—and for just a few moments, the dark clouds of grief and sorrow that have been covering him disappear. All he can think about is the pleasure of the person below him—and Razel lets out his voice in spades. He is an uninhibited lover, and Kaltz can hear he is fast approaching his limit.

That’s fine—though they could prolong this all night, Kaltz is close, too—and he issues another, subtle command.

“Let go of everything—just for a few moments—and come with everything you have.”

And Razel complies. 

At that very moment, for the first time since he has become a devil, Kaltz is able to read Razel’s emotions. Possibly, it’s because the emotions are so strong. Or it may be because Kaltz himself isn’t dwelling on the past and his own grief. And he experiences a vision.

He sees a wealthy palace—a dark room, lamps draped with red silk, Razel’s slightly younger self taking a beautiful human woman, while several other people watch them or have sex themselves. These people are Razel’s friends—young men and women paired together in every combination—celebration something, perhaps a victory. And the feeling is warm. At first, Kaltz thinks it must be a brothel, but as the vision progresses, it isn’t. This is Razel’s _home_ , and it is a wonderful memory.

Kaltz realizes Razel has climaxed and he allows himself the pleasure as well—his own mind drifting slightly away from their connection to a field of flowers not far from Ransen. The most beautiful cat in the world visited him there—he can almost hear her lighthearted laughter ringing out among the flowers.

He comes inside the red demon’s body, his tail quivering with pleasure, his purr loud and wet, sensation tingling from his core and spreading to the rest of his body. It’s a warm feeling—gentle and warm—it reminds him of being alive. 

Both devils collapse in exhaustion on the bed, and Kaltz waves his hand over Razel’s head, whispering a few more words—freeing him from the spell.

“It would wear off in a day, but still. For your comfort,” Kaltz explains.

“Thank you,” Razel says—and Kaltz understands he isn’t being thanked for removing the spell. 

“You are so very warm,” Kaltz remarks, as he turns to face the red demon, lying in his side. 

“You felt like a cool soothing relief, a drink of cool water,” Razel replies. “Please, contact me anytime. I’d be pleased to repeat the experience.”

Kaltz feels the demon’s eyes resting on him, and he looks up.

“What is it?” 

“Why don’t you see him?”

“See who?”

“Your son. The child. You can go whenever you like. You can hide yourself—not be seen, if you so choose.”

“...” Kaltz doesn’t speak for a moment. “How do you know about our child?”

“I did my research on you before agreeing to this, of course.” Razel turns to his back, staring up at the canopy of flowers. “I know how much you loved his mother, but I find it odd you never visit your son.” 

“You speak as thought he were alive. The baby must have passed when she drown,” Kaltz says—and then realizes Razel has been saying “son,” and not “baby.” How would he know the sex... unless he was actually born? “Wait—didn’t Kaya die when she fell? I saw her die before my eyes—just before they killed me.”

“She was injured, gravely, and very grieved, yes—but she lived,” Razel replies, his face filling with sorrow. “She died shortly after he was born.” 

Kaltz is unable to speak. A son! Was he truly a monster child, like the rumors said he would be? A child of their forbidden union? Who cares for him now, he wondered? Where did he live? How did he live? Would he's ever experience a love as great as his parents’?

“Asato.” 

“What?” Kaltz is stunned by the sudden softly spoken word.

“It’s his name. He is a good child.” Casting a slight sideways glance at the blue devil, Razel looks back up at the ceiling.

“I can go without being called?” 

“Rest first. Then I will show you how,” Razel says—and warm hands run softly through his hair. “Even I visited my loved ones at first.”


End file.
